Ever been lost in the murmur of a pattern? The kind you almost, gently brush against, like the first light of day filtering through a veil of thought?
There’s something poetic in these echoes. Almost like the tender hum of a distant song. The rhythms you didn’t know were there, have been waiting for the perfect moment.
And what about the little things? The unnoticed nuances in the fabric of time and space? Like the way a drop reverberates, creating concentric rings, telling tales in whispers. Patterns are like those tales waiting in the margins.
Being curious doesn’t always lead to answers, sometimes you find a facet that reflects a pattern's truth uniquely.